pigs might fly
by cithrin
Summary: Modern AU. Can Mary Bennet survive her sisters' double wedding and sort out her non-existent love life? Yeah, and pigs might fly.


_A/N: I absolutely shouldn't start another story, but I've been stuck on this modern AU ever since I read Curtis Sittenfeld's Eligible (modern retelling of P&P) and I wanted to put my own spin on it, but with Mary as the star. The action is set in the US, and it starts right as P&P ends. Anyway, if you enjoy it, hit me up with a comment._

* * *

 **1: twice as fierce as Xanthippe**

* * *

 _LIZZY = ELIZABETH DARCY. COME HOME ASAPPP._

Mary stared at her mother's cryptic text message for a full minute. Had she read too much Heidegger in one night, or had her mom added two extra _Ps_ there?

 _As soon as possible possible possible…_

She put the phone down and surveyed her still-not-finished-despite-it-being-2-AM essay. Just your average college night, nothing special about it. Except, her mother usually went to bed at 9 PM sharp. And as far as Mary knew, the surname "Darcy" belonged to a certain hoity-toity individual her sister, Lizzy, deeply disliked.

What in God's name was going on?

And even if - assuming the world had turned upside down - her sister was marrying Darcy, she would absolutely not take that man's last name. That would be so medieval at this point.

"Could you turn off that light already?" her roomie from across the hall mumbled blearily.

"Sorry, I just need one more minute to finish up."

Jessica groaned. "You know you'll get a freakin' A."

"My sister's getting married," Mary announced dumbly.

"Mazel tov."

"Isn't that for a bar mitzvah?"

"Works for both. Are you gonna be a bridesmaid?" Jessica asked, rubbing her bleary eyes.

"I don't know."

" _Really_? But isn't that a given?"

Mary shrugged. "Not in my family." There were so many sisters to go round. It wasn't personal.

"Well, the bridesmaids get the _worst_ dresses anyway. Now go to bed before I spray you!" Jessica threatened, scratching her bum on the way out.

It was no idle threat. Jessica was obsessed with celebrity perfumes and loved collecting each bottle, no matter how vile. Her latest torture device was Mariah Carey's Eau de Parfum. Mary shuddered just picturing the smell.

She climbed into bed, clutching her phone. Should she check if her mother had had a stroke?

She yawned sleepily. Nah, better wait till morning.

* * *

It wasn't a stroke.

Mary boarded the Amtrak to Newark with a sense of foreboding. She had called Lizzy and Jane for more info on the _shocking_ news, but neither of them wanted to talk about it over the phone.

"The story's too long and convoluted. We need to tell you face to face."

As if the government might be listening in on them. The sense of mystery was augmented by the fact that not even _Kitty_ wanted to divulge a single thing. And the last time Kitty had refrained from spilling a secret was close to third grade.

Her mother was also gleefully waiting for the whole family to reunite over the weekend so she could narrate the happy event properly. After all, she gave herself _full_ credit for pushing her daughters onto men they otherwise would not have met.

This probably meant Mrs. Bennet had invited their youngest sister too.

Lydia was the black sheep of the family, which Mary resented, since she'd always imagined that title being rightfully _hers_. She'd always wanted to distinguish herself through some act of intellectual rebellion, but Lydia had gone and stolen her thunder by hooking up with a working-class man, twice her age.

Last she'd heard, they were living together somewhere in the Ozarks, where the guy worked in the coal industry. Basically, Lydia was living in a D.H. Lawrence novel, and while Mary knew there wasn't much to envy about that, she still felt that this beatnik narrative belonged to _her_ , the true bohemian of the Bennet clan.

After all, she was majoring in Philosophy and that was the number _one_ most useless degree on all top ten lists, from Forbes to Buzzfeed. She was guaranteed to starve way more than Art Historians. An English degree was practically rolling in it.

Of course, no one in her family appreciated her risqué choice. Her father called her ridiculous, her mother complained that there weren't enough eligible men in Philosophy, and her sisters said that she'd get over this phase soon. Well, Jane was more diplomatic. "Edmund Burke doesn't have all the answers in life, you know."

Which, duh. He was an old white guy who'd read a lot and had _time_ to _think_ about his reading. Objectively, he knew more about life than Jane and Mary, but on the other hand, he hadn't been able to predict that, a few hundred years later, he'd be studied in a degree worth less than two packets of Mike  & Ike.

Such were the vagaries of life.

* * *

Mary blinked. No, it wasn't her poor vision. She didn't need new glasses. Lizzy's engagement ring had the spark of a small solar flare.

"Wow. How many karats is that?"

"I didn't exactly ask," her sister replied wryly.

"Well, if the house ever burns down, you know what to sell."

Lizzy nudged her playfully. "Haven't you gone past the Cynics in school?"

"In curriculum, yes. In heart, never," Mary delivered deadpan, which made her sister smile. Mary deigned a small smile in return.

She was sitting on the couch in the big Bennet living room, sardined between a sleeping Kitty and a dozing Mrs Bennet, who was still pretending to watch the TV. Lydia was staying at a hotel with George, her "working man". Mr. Bennet didn't let him sleep under his roof. Jane, meanwhile, was on the phone with Charlie Bingley, her own fiancé. As Mary found out after three hours of non-stop talking, _he_ was the reason that Elizabeth was getting married. Will Darcy was one of his best friends.

"Small world," Mary pondered. "And all this happened over a couple of months? While I was toiling away in academia?"

"Yes, those Ivy League walls kept you safe from the tedium of real life," Lizzy mocked affectionately.

"Good thing they're so thick," Mary mused, grabbing another chip from the bag in her lap.

" _How_ is Brown treating you by the way?"

"Apart from the whiplash of Rhode-Island weather, it's all good. Stressful, but good."

She'd forgotten how fun it was to talk to Lizzy. She hadn't been home in a while. It was different when just the two of them were chatting. Lizzy showed her sharp tongue more often with Mary. When Jane was around, the conversation was still stimulating, but a little bit more restrained. And in any case, Jane was Lizzy's _true_ confidante and companion. Mary didn't mind. She used to, when she was a teenager. Nowadays, she was too busy writing grad-school applications. Ha. She also wanted to _teach_ Philosophy. Had there ever been a more accurate female counterpart to Don Quixote?

"So. You went from absolutely despising him to finding him tolerable …to finding him perfect," Mary recapped, chewing thoughtfully.

"Darcy is hardly perfect," Lizzy countered. "But I think that's why I love him."

"Well, I think it's also the pull of love/hate relationships. Yours is a classic Eros and Thanatos. Or I guess Benedick and Beatrice."

"Enough with your polished references. No one cares for them here," Lizzy said, tossing a chip at her.

"Speaking of Shakespeare," Lizzy added, "Charlotte called me today."

"That's a strange non-sequitur."

"Well, we chatted a bit about the wedding and the sparse dating pool in her marketing department, etcetera, but in-between she dropped some juicy gossip. You remember her younger brother, Grant?"

Mary wrinkled her nose. "The football buffoon? The one who used to paint our principal's name on the school wall and then write "virgin" next to it?"

"The very same. He's an actor now. Got his first gig a month ago."

Mary choked on her chips. "Grant Lucas. A thespian."

"I know. Apparently, he hit it big with some toothpaste commercial."

"Ugh. I have to admit he did have perfect teeth. He made us all feel bad for not flossing enough."

Lizzy chuckled. "Charlotte told me he's coming back here to tell his old buddies all about it. He expects a hero welcome, obviously."

"God. I suppose he'll delight us all by playing his commercial ad nauseam at the wedding," Mary quipped.

Her sister heaved a sigh. "I guess I can't avoid inviting him. Do you think Mom would ever accept a smaller wedding?"

Mary raised an eyebrow. " _Mama_ is twice as fierce as Xanthippe. You're going to have to spring for a ballroom."

* * *

Despite being very proud of her academic life separate from home, Mary secretly loved the old Bennet house. Rusty and worn-out as it was, it still looked pretty impressive from the driveway. An old Georgian with shuttered windows and sinking porch, it embodied every cliché in the nefarious fairytales she used to read as a child. Hansel and Gretel probably avoided becoming meat pies in a similar abode. It always looked great on Halloween. Now it looked crowded and prosaic. It looked _happy_ , which was a silly adjective to use to describe a building. But she could be whimsical, from time to time.

Still, a crowded house was not optimal for finishing assignments. Her father's study had always been Switzerland for the rest of the family – no one was allowed to invade – so she had to take her laptop to the local "hip" café downtown to get any work done.

She hadn't been to _Allison's_ in over a year, which she considered a lifetime. The person who owned the chain had probably given a listen to that dopey _Allison_ song, the one that went "Oh, Aaaaallisoooon, I know this wait is killing youuuu" - which is basically about a guy who can't commit to someone and keeps stringing them along - and thought, "now _there's_ a good idea for a business".

Indeed, waiting for a coffee at _Allison's_ sometimes took up to an hour, which was considered to be the specialty and charm of the locale. But it was quiet and it smelled clean, the only real prerequisites for a Mary Bennet study session (and sometimes the second item was up for debate).

She took a table by the window, wrapped her owl-patterned shawl around her shoulders (a last Christmas gift from her father), and decided to surf Tumblr for a few minutes, since she had plenty of time to get started on Stuart Mill.

She was halfway through a pretty intense thread about non-binary visibility in queer narratives, when her small laptop rattled against the table as someone's weight fell on the opposite end.

"Hey! It's Mary-Canary! Long time no see!"

She looked up to find none other than Grant Lucas straddling one of the chairs in front of her. He was grinning in that jock-cum-supermodel kind of way. He'd always been excessively good-looking, which had prevented Mary from ever harboring any ill-advised crush on him, since he was almost _too_ handsome to like. Kitty and Lydia hadn't had this problem. They had drooled over him for most of their incipient teen years, until he moved away. Mary couldn't understand why, as his attitude was downright infuriating.

For example, only _he_ would remember that stupid nickname. She hadn't been called Mary-Canary since sixth grade, when an unfortunate incident with the class canary spread around town like wildfire (she'd basically tried to give the poor bird a nice, long bath).

"Hi…Grant."

"What's up with you, college girl?" he asked, wriggling his eyebrows.

"Nothing much. Came here to study," was Mary's formal reply.

"Tisk, tisk. Always studying. Old habits die hard, am I right?"

Mary smiled uneasily. He was talking about it like she was shooting up heroin.

"Mostly, old habits keep me enrolled," she said, looking down at her laptop and hoping he'd take the hint.

"Cool. I hear both of your sisters are engaged," he said, still leaning across her table in his all-too-tight Henley shirt and torn jeans.

"I imagine everyone knows by now," Mary commented, trying to dismiss the subject.

He was waiting for her to say more, though.

Mary sighed.

"What's new with _you_ , Grant?"

He grinned. "I'm glad you asked. Let me show you something really cool."

He pulled out his phone.

 _Oh, no._

"Now, you have to promise not to laugh. It's a little weird…" he trailed off, pressing play to a video which he clearly had saved directly on his screen. A man riding a rollercoaster (whom Mary identified as a heavily made-up Grant) was screaming with his mouth open. His teeth were so white and shiny that he actually blinded the guy in charge of the ride. Soon, the people on the rollercoaster found themselves stuck on a high ledge above ground. They were all shooting daggers at the man with the too brilliant smile who had caused all this mayhem. At this point, a large script came up on screen.

 _DentalWave. A smile can be dangerous._

"What do you think? Kind of kooky, right? But it's a gig, and it was a lot of fun to film."

Mary had to suck in a breath to prevent a fit of giggles.

"It's definitely creative," she said, holding her hand over her mouth.

"I've got another gig for Budweiser. Did you know they don't actually allow you to drink the beers in the commercial?"

"Yes, they're prohibited by law," Mary supplied.

Grant beamed. "That's right! Glad that college education is paying off, Mary-Canary."

 _Could you stop calling me that, you ass?_

"Yes, well…I'm glad you were discovered."

"Bound to happen, I always thought. I mean, not to sound braggy, but no one else's got the face for TV in this town."

 _No, not braggy at all_ , she thought, highly annoyed. Although, there was some cosmic irony in the fact that Grant Lucas had inherited Adonis looks from his parents, whereas his sister, Charlotte, was almost as plain as Mary. She surmised that in every family, looks and brains were divided equally.

"I mean I guess I could've gotten a football scholarship too, but this seems way more fulfilling, you know?"

Mary nodded absently. "Good for you."

"So, how long are you in town?" he asked, pulling back his phone.

"Probably only this weekend."

"You coming down for the wedding? I hear Lizzy's guy is loaded and there'll be a big shindig in the town square."

"Did Mom tell you that?"

"Actually, _my_ mom told me."

"Ah." Amelia Lucas and Mrs. Bennet were thick as thieves. "Well, it depends on what the couple wants."

"If I ever got married, I'd do it at the beach."

 _Of course you would_ , she thought, trying not to roll her eyes.

"You know how it's so beautiful at sunset?" he went on, obliviously. His eyes got misty as he stared in the distance. He was probably imagining himself with some Victoria's Secret model in Atlantic City. Even now, he seemed to be posing for an ad.

"I prefer sunrises," she muttered, clicking randomly on different tags on Tumblr, hoping he'd get bored and leave. His stunningly good looks were giving her a headache.

"Sunrises are great too, but who can wake up for those?" he persisted.

"You don't have to. You can just stay up all night and catch them," she said, thinking of her late-night sessions in her dorm.

Grant smiled. "See, that's the only college experience I wish I had."

Mary raised an eyebrow. " _Really_? Not keg-stands and fraternity bashes?"

He waved his hand, missing or ignoring her sarcasm. "Overrated. I party so hard in L.A. I sometimes forget who I am."

"That must feel odd," she mused.

"Yeah, out-of-body experience," he said in a soulful voice.

 _Okay…please don't start talking about yoga and meditation…_

"By the way, do you practice yoga? It's really good for you."

 _Crap._

She couldn't get rid of him until he finished talking about his personal gym and his yoga trainer and his daily meditation ritual.

A stranger might've found it odd how much Grant was sharing, but Mary knew this was just how oblivious narcissists behaved. They didn't care who their audience was as long as they got to talk. Actually, being an actor was perfect for Grant.

At long last, he seemed to be done.

"It was so great talking to you, Mary-Canary. I missed your nerdy glasses," he said, pointing at her blue rectangular frames.

Mary winced. He couldn't help but insult her one more time. In fact, she recalled him _breaking_ her glasses in middle-school once. Maybe this was his way of apologizing…but probably not.

"It was nice talking to you too," she said stiffly. "I should get back to my work though."

"Oh, sure. I'll see you around then? Say hi to your sisters for me."

"I will. Say hi to Charlotte for me too."

He smiled and waved goodbye and then went to the counter to grab his very late and now almost cool coffee. The _Allison's_ trademark.

Mary wondered if, in 20 years' time, she'd hear a TMZ report that Grant Lucas had become a Scientologist.

* * *

There was a lot of commotion when she returned to the house. Mary could hear the argument from the sidewalk. She recognized Lydia and her father's voice. She could also see George Wickham, looking surly in his car in the driveway.

Mary walked over him. "Hello, George."

"Hi…uh, Mary, right?"

"The very same. What's going on?" she asked, pointing at the house.

He shrugged moodily. "Ask your father. He's giving my girl grief over the wedding. Me? I don't give a rat's ass. I don't want to be invited, no offense."

"None taken."

It was clear now that Mr. Bennet was not going to allow Lydia to come to her own sister's wedding with Wickham. That seemed a little harsh. But she could understand. Lydia had run away at _sixteen_. It had nearly killed their mother.

Still, she didn't want to walk into that argument, so she went around the house to the back door. She was surprised to find Kitty sitting on the steps, guarding it like a dog. "You're back late."

"I had to study. What's up?"

Kitty sighed dramatically. "You know what's up. Lydia again."

If Mary was jealous of Lydia's outcast status as a principle, Kitty was jealous in more palpable ways. Namely, she wished she had a guy like Wickham waiting in the driveway.

"By the way," Kitty added, looking up coyly. "We're having a double wedding. Jane just told us. Charlie thinks they should all get married together since like, why waste the caterers, right?"

Mary grimaced. "A double wedding sounds...like a lot."

"You're telling me. I'll need two dress changes, at _least_ ," Kitty mused anxiously. Mary understood her worries. Kitty was a fashion aficionado. She was the number one employee at the H&M in town. Although one of Mrs. Bennet's friends had gotten her the job, Kitty had quickly found her footing and was almost running the place. Everyone went to her for dress suggestions.

"By the way, I don't care if Dad gave it to you, that shawl is hideous," Kitty proclaimed with authority.

The double wedding meant more than just outfit changes, however. Mary was soon informed that Mrs. Bennet would need _all_ hands on deck for the big event.

"There hasn't been a double wedding in this town in over thirty years! We have to make history, girls!"

Their mother looked like she was having a stroke. Of _joy_. She was running around, assigning tasks to everyone, although the wedding – or _weddings_? - was months away.

"Shouldn't we hire a wedding planner?" Mary asked at one point, going over the ridiculous number of articles and prospects her mother had pushed in her lap.

"What? A wedding planner? What for? I've been planning this day for the last thirty years, at least! No one's going to take this away from me!"

You'd almost think her mom was the one getting married.

"But Darcy and Bingley are footing the bill, I assume?" Mary asked. Traditionally, it was the father of the bride who coughed up the money for these things, but seeing as her father was barely able to keep the Bennet family afloat financially…

"They're only paying for half. Your uncle, Martin, is going to help us with the other half."

Martin Gardiner was a well-esteemed engineer on the East Coast. He wasn't made of money either, but he had a higher income than all the Bennets combined.

"That's great, Mom. But I can't help out with the wedding, I have to focus on the exams coming up, plus my dissertation –"

"Oh, but you finish school in a month! And then you're free to pitch in."

Mary bit her lip. That was technically true, except a certain favorite professor of hers had offered her a summer job, TA-ing for him until the start of the graduate program.

Professor Collins had been one of the first to suggest to Mary that she might pursue a teaching career. He always singled her out and commended her on her "excellent work". Mary always got a tingly feeling when she saw the email notifications from him. In fact, she was expecting one any day now. She kind of hated herself, because having a crush on your advisor was one of the most clichéd staples of college life, but Professor Collins was an intellectual and a fascinating man, in general. It wasn't like crushing on Grant Lucas, _ugh_.

Still, her mother wouldn't take no for an answer. As a compromise, Mary promised to come home more often.

"I expect you home every other weekend, young lady," Mrs. Bennet warned her, raising a matronly finger in her direction.

"OK, as long as you don't text me at 2 A.M. anymore," she muttered under her breath.

But Jane and Lizzy were, surprisingly, in agreement with their mother.

"Please, Mary. We need one more sane person around the house."

"Even if that sane person happens to be permanently grumpy?"

"Oh, please. Join the grump-squad," Lizzy joked, pulling her into a hug. Her sister was probably more stressed than usual because she was taking a pretty long break from her stable job in New York in order to get married at home. It felt like a slightly backwards thing to do, and she needed their support now more than ever. Jane, on the other hand, had fewer qualms about it, since she ran the local homeless shelter in town and was not making any sort of statement by getting married in what the tour guides called the "Antiquing Capital of New Jersey".

"It's settled then," Mrs. Bennet concluded in satisfaction, like a spider which had caught all its flies. "We're going to have the biggest wedding this town has ever seen!"


End file.
